Dress Shopping
by steel-trap
Summary: Just like it sounds: Asami and Korra go dress shopping. Oneshot.


**I've been crippled with writer's block for a few weeks. This idea popped into my head, and I ran with it. It's largely unedited, so please forgive any general mistakes. **

**My very first LoK fanfic! Enjoy!**

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Before the big move to Republic City, shopping had literally never been an issue for Korra—there were no clothing shops on the South Pole. Like everyone else, her clothes had been made to fit her; dyed shades of blue with octo-squid ink and stitched onto her body by her mother's skilled hands. It hadn't mattered that Korra wasn't waif-like and willowy like her friend, Asami. Korra was the Avatar—she was _supposed_ to be muscular. And she lived in one of the harshest climates on the planet; nature had provided her with that extra layer of body fat in order to keep her warm. The fabrics of Korra's people—fur and rawhide and leather-had never been unflattering on her sizable breasts or "baby-making hips," as her mother lovingly referred to them. But things were different in Republic City. _Much_ different. And after a comment from a particularly snooty shop owner about "girls from the Poles" having "such impossible figures," Korra had developed a deep hatred for fashion that was still present three years later.

"Just try this on, Kor," Asami begged, holding up a bright red midriff-bearing dress for Korra to see. "Please?"

Asami's wedding was one week away, and Korra had yet to purchase a dress for the ceremony. Korra had successfully avoided this trip to Republic City's most prestigious dress shop for weeks, her excuse being that she had to "fill in" for Asami's fiancé, Iroh, while he and the rest of the United Forces were breaking up a revolt in Ba Sing Se; the way Korra saw it, helping Asami address frilly invitations and choose the flowers for her bouquet was less torturous than a dress fitting promised to be. But today, Asami had finally caught on. She had dragged Korra out of her room on Air Temple Island and into the city, barking sentences like, "I can't _believe _you," and, "No, you can't wear your Water Tribe gown, it's the middle of summer, you idiot!" And so Korra was here, at Kang's Formal Wear with Asami, feeling both murderous and self-conscious amidst the racks of silky, sparkly frocks.

Korra recoiled from the garment in Asami's hands. "Are you _crazy_? There's no back! Or _front_, for that matter!"

"Just put it on!" Asami snapped, thrusting the dress into Korra's arms and pointing her toward the fitting rooms. "You _will_ find a dress today, or so help me, I'll—"

"What? Electro-glove me?" Korra taunted, but she stalked off toward the fitting room anyway.

Behind a curtain in the fitting room, Korra kicked off her moccasins, shed her baggy trousers and rawhide half-skirt, and maneuvered out of her top for what felt like the millionth time today; she had tried on twelve dresses now, and had disliked all of them immensely. She sighed at the sight of her body in the mirror, resentful of her breasts and hips and shoulders for making excursions like this one so difficult, but began to struggle into the newest dress that Asami had picked out for her. As Korra had anticipated, the dress clung to her form in all the wrong places and exposed far too much skin for her liking. She dug the heels of her hands into her eye sockets; her frustration was beginning to show...

"Let me see!" Asami called from the other side of the curtain.

"It doesn't fit, 'Sami."

Ignoring Korra's statement, Asami pulled the curtain of Korra's fitting room open. She studied Korra's figure for a moment before muttering, "No. You're right."

"This is why I put this off for so long," Korra grumbled, closing the curtain and beginning to remove the dress. "The clothes here don't fit me. I'm not shaped right..."

"_Korra_," Asami chided gently. "Don't say things like that."

"It's true."

"It's not."

"Well, find a dress that proves me wrong, then."

"Why don't _you_ find one?" Asami said, exasperated. "You're the one who has to wear it, after all..."

"Fine!"

When she was once again dressed in her Water Tribe ensemble, Korra stomped out of her dressing room and back into the main area of the shop. She had no idea where to start looking, but she was too proud to ask Asami to point her in the right direction, so she chose a random rack and began to rifle through it. Finding nothing that she liked, she moved on to the next rack. And then the next one. And then the next one. And soon there was only one rack left unexplored. By this point, Korra was positively woebegone—she was _never_ going to find anything suitable, she _knew_ it. But she began to comb slowly through the last rack anyway.

Ten dresses in, she found a gown that gave her pause. It was floor-length and deep purple, and decorated with thousands and thousands of tiny iridescent beads. The back was cut low, but the front was modest. When Korra pulled the dress off the rack in order to examine it more closely, the smooth fabric flowed like water.

Korra held the gown up for Asami to see. "What do you think?"

Asami shrugged. "I saw it earlier, but I didn't think you would like it."

"I'm trying it on," Korra decided. She scampered back into the fitting room and drew the curtain closed, taking a long moment to simply stare at the dress in her arms. Finally, when she heard Asami make a bored noise on the other side of the curtain, Korra began to shed her clothing for the million-and-first time.

The dress fit like a glove—no, like a _dream_. It was neither too long nor too short, and the beads caught the light and glistened like gemstones whenever Korra moved. Her waist looked shapely, her bottom looked—she had to admit it—_fantastic_, and the low back displayed her toned muscles while the modestly-cut front accentuated her collarbones. Korra was in love with this dress. In this dress, she didn't hate her body—she _adored_ it, "baby-making hips" and all. And in that moment, Korra understood that it wasn't about how clothing looked on her body—it was about how it made her feel. And this dress, unlike all of the others she had tried on, made her feel beautiful.

Asami gasped audibly when Korra emerged from behind the curtain. The bride-to-be's eyes were wide and she was grinning from ear to ear. "You. Look. _Stunning_!"

"Thanks." Korra grinned along with her friend. "Looks like us 'girls from the Poles' clean up pretty well, huh?"

Asami's grin suddenly melted into a frown. "I'm just worried about one thing..."

"What?" Korra demanded. Her heart was suddenly racing; if Asami's 'one thing' meant Korra not being able to wear this dress, Korra would probably burst into tears.

"I... I'm worried about... Mako."

"_What_ _about Mako?_"

"What if... What if he can't take his eyes off of you long enough to give his speech at the reception?"

And then Asami was laughing—laughing so hard that she was making herself snort.

"Your..._face_!" she choked out. "Priceless!"

Korra scowled as her heart rate returned to normal. She raised her hand and bent a strong gust of air in Asami's direction, smirking in satisfaction when Asami's hair was blasted backwards with such force that her barrette went clattering across the shop floor. The laughter had drained from Asami's face, replaced with an expression of frozen surprise.

"_Your_ face," Korra retorted. With that, she spun on her heel and sauntered back into the fitting room.

Perhaps fashion wasn't so bad, Korra thought. Makeup, on the other hand...

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**Reviews make me smile :)**


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